A Conversation With Henry
by CatchMeInADream
Summary: Swan Queen Week. Day 4. Canon divergence. Emma has a conversation with Henry, and makes a decision. Pre-Swan Queen.


Notes: Really playing fast and loose with the prompt this time. I think it follows the letter of the prompt, technically, but violates the shit out of the spirit. But it's been sitting on my hard drive for a couple of months now, and I think it's high time I did something with it. It feels like the start of something bigger.

* * *

There was a conversation Emma had once with Henry that she remembered above all others. And that was saying something, because she regularly tried to talk him out of the insane notion that his mom was a literal evil witch.

But this conversation...it was different. Because it wasn't a fairy tale. It was Henry's actual reality, and it was heartbreaking.

The conversation went like this:

"There's another reason, you know," Henry told her solemnly. They were sitting at his castle, the book spread across their laps. It was open to a page depicting the woman Henry stubbornly insisted was Regina, and Emma couldn't lie, she thought it was one of the most unsettling pictures in the whole book. She didn't like looking at it for long. So she looked over it instead, to where Vivande was dive bombing Absalom as a sleek little barn swallow. Absalom was mostly ignoring the attacks, except for the moments where he'd snap playfully back when Viv got close enough.

"Kid, what are we even talking about right now?" she asked. "Because if it's the Evil Queen thing, it's getting repetitive. This fairy tale stuff..."

"I've never seen him," Henry interrupted in a rush. Vivande came immediately to his shoulder and settled there, curling around his neck as a soft ferret. Henry covered her neck with his hand, rubbing her fur gently.

Emma frowned, the unsettled feeling she got from looking through the book manifesting again, sevenfold. "Seen who, Henry?"

Absalom came to rest his head on Emma's knee. She reached for his ears in the same manner that Henry had just reached for Viv.

"Mom's dæmon," Henry admitted in a low voice. "I've never seen him."

Emma's brain immediately short circuited, unable to process what she'd just heard. Absalom had his jaw hanging open to match hers, and they simply stared at Henry. Henry met each gaze with one of his own, though Viv had her head buried in his neck, hiding.

When her brain came back online, she searched him desperately for any sign of deceit. But her superpower wasn't pinging this time. Those six words were truer than anything Henry had ever said to her.

"Oh, kid," she whispered, reaching out to touch his hair.

Vivande made a small, pathetic sound. Absalom was standing, stiff legged, his nose straining toward her in distress. At first Henry didn't understand, and stared in confusion at his birth mother's dæmon. That was the final nail in the coffin for Emma, that the poor kid literally did not seem to understand the request.

How was it, Emma thought bleakly, how was it that she, who had grown up alone, unloved, taken in and given back, how was it that she had a better understanding of the affection between dæmons than this child, whose mother loved him with a fierceness Emma had never before seen? She thought of Regina then, of the way Regina always got up in her face at the first hint of a threat, and the way those red lips seemed to always be set in a permanent and defiant sneer, the way Emma was absolutely sure that Regina would face down an angry mob armed with nothing but her teeth and her fingernails if it would protect Henry. There was a lot that Emma hated about Regina Mills but the way she loved her son was not one of them.

But then she thought of how, when she and Regina went toe to toe, snapping at one another like wild dogs, Absalom was always left snarling at the air. For all of Regina's bluster, she never opened that damn silver capsule.

Emma got it, of course. Regina's capsule was awfully small; it easily fit in the palm of her hand. And while she couldn't imagine what form Regina's dæmon took that was so small, and so fragile, she knew that there were many people with insect dæmons that preferred the lanyards with their indestructible capsules. It wasn't entirely uncommon for such dæmons to never be seen in the public eye.

But at home...well, Emma had never had a real family before, so she wasn't exactly an expert, but honestly, if you couldn't trust your family with your dæmon, then who _could_ you trust?

And suddenly she was furious, _furious_ at Regina, that she would love her son _so well _and still deny him this. What kind of person, what kind of _mother-?_

Absalom growled low in his throat and clacked his teeth at Vivande. She finally seemed to understand, and flowed down off of Henry and into Absalom's paws. Absalom nuzzled her and her form flickered, becoming a small Shiba Inu puppy to match Absalom's adult form.

Free of his dæmon, Henry leaned into Emma's side, burrowing under her arm. She held him close, and he was quiet as they watched their dæmons, and Emma pretended not to know that he was crying. She looked down at the book, still spread across their laps, at the picture that did, maybe, just a little, sort of resemble Regina a bit. The Evil Queen smirked, triumphant, back at her.

Dæmonless.

She met Absalom's eyes next. Her fierce, beloved soul looked back at her, serene, and very deliberately lowered his muzzle to lick at Vivande's face. Viv wiggled and squirmed against him, tucking herself into his chest and letting out the most adorable, contented puppy yawn.

And Emma knew.

She wasn't leaving. Not ever again. She would stay, right here in Storybrooke, and damn _anything _Regina Mills had to say about it. She would stay.

For as long as Henry needed her.


End file.
